Heart

Eight

“Wow, that’s a great idea,” I mumbled, pushing myself up into a sitting position before scooting off the bed completely. I stood still for a moment, and then aimlessly journeyed around his room. The décor didn’t match the way he dressed; it was way too punk/tough guy for him--there was a lot of black and also some slightly scary trinkets littering his dresser.

“Why so sarcastic?” he asked, also sitting up. His tone told me he was sort of offended.

“What could we do, Al? We’re just teenagers.”

“Well, you are, technically. But I’m legally an adult.”

I sneered. “Well that’ll make two of us in a couple of months.”

He rolled his head on his shoulders and then smoothed his hand over his hair--which was still heavily gelled. Hadn’t he taken a shower yet? Maybe I had barged in before he could.

“Okay, fine. If you want to have kidnapping on your record, then just go ahead and sit back on your butt. But I’m most definitely not going to stand for this.” Alan glanced at me sideways, knowing that he had convinced me with that whole “on your record” thing. I was much too afraid of prison to disagree with Alan now.

I crossed my arms and frowned slightly. “Okay, okay. But if we get in trouble, then I’m telling them it was all your idea.”

He stood with a triumphant gleam in his eye, and shrugged as he walked over to me. “Well, it is all my idea. You won’t have to worry about much, I promise. I’ll do the planning.” He grabbed my shoulders and spun me towards the window. “Now, get outta here. I’ve got to take a shower.”

I smiled and pushed the window up, shivering slightly at the bitter breeze that blew inside. I automatically wrapped my arms around myself for warmth, and before I ducked out, I heard Alan say, “Don’t disappear now, Kara. Be careful.”

***

The next day, Alan dropped by around ten a.m., his truck all shined up and pretty. Luckily my parents hadn’t figured out that I left last night, so all was good when I woke up in the morning. Well, besides the fact that it was still awkward, since I still believed that they thought I was guilty. Breakfast was pretty quiet.

Alan knocked at the front door, but he already knew he was welcome, so he stepped on in after doing so. My mom greeted him with a wan smile as she finished clearing the table from our awkward breakfast, and my dad flicked his chin as he leaned back in his chair, stuffed with eggs and biscuits. Al told us all good morning and took a seat at the table, across from me.

“Well, I’m sorry Alan,” my mom fretted, “there aren’t any leftovers for you.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine. I already had a bowl of cereal at my house.”

She nodded and twisted the faucet on so she could start rinsing the dishes before they were placed in the dishwasher.

“So. What’s your view on this whole kidnapping bit?” my dad asked mildly.

I flinched. What that translated to was: Do you think my daughter could have done it?

I think Alan noticed my reaction, for he nudged my foot under the table with his own before he answered. “I’m still in the processing stage, I think. At this point, I’m clueless as to who the kidnapper is. Could be anybody.”

Dad nodded and thoughtfully rubbed his stomach for a moment or two. “I hope them cops find out soon. They think my baby girl kidnapped her, you know.”

Yeah, so do you, I scoffed silently.

Alan nodded and slanted his gaze briefly my way. I didn’t care enough to find out what his eyes were telling me.